


Bucky Barnes, Substitute Teacher

by AgeOfAlejandro



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst, F/F, F/M, Getting Together, M/M, Match making natasha, Mutual Pining, Other pairings are side pairings - Freeform, So is Bucky, Steve Is Bad At Feelings, The avengers are teachers and admin, everybody is bisexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8698801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgeOfAlejandro/pseuds/AgeOfAlejandro
Summary: In which Bucky decides Mr Rogers's art classes are his favorite, Natasha is a sneaky motherfucker, Steve is too hot for Bucky to handle, & our boys are Bad at Feelings.
AKA, the substitute AU no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

This was the best day Bucky had ever had as a substitute. Nobody gawked too much at his prosthetic and the kids were great so far. Even better,  _ he actually got to teach something _ . Usually, middle and high school jobs were babysitting, but here he was, talking about  _ chiaroscuro _ to a bunch of interested high school kids. Bucky thought being able to  _ see _ the light of understanding dawn in their eyes was one of the most satisfying feelings in the world.

His example drawings were not of the same standard as their teacher, Mr Rogers, but they seemed to work. He set the kids free to do it on their own, walking among the tables to check on them and make sure they were on task.

One girl raised her hand, smiling brightly, and Bucky weaved his way through the room to her.

“Whatcha need, Dallas?” he asked, squatting next to her desk.

“I think I’m doing it right,” she said as attempted to tuck her dreadlocks behind her shoulder without getting charcoal on them. Dallas angled the picture so he could see, “But I wanted to check with you, Mr. Barnes.”

Dallas looked proud of herself. Bucky suspected she just wanted to show off little, which was kind of adorable. He smiled at her and nodded. “Alright, lemme see your work, Ms Sears.” He picked it up and examined it. The sketch of a cat was loose, elegant, and perfectly shaded. “You absolutely have got the concept and dang, girl, you can draw!”

She looked pleased and smiled back, a touch shy now, as she accepted the paper back from him. “Thanks, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky smiled back at her as he stood up. “No problem, Dallas. You really are good at this and I hope you keep practicing.”

Dallas nodded. “I plan on it.” She shot him a sly grin, “Wait ‘til I’m a famous artist. Then you can say you knew me before I was getting exhibitions.”

He grinned and patted her shoulder. “Promise me you’ll at least give me an autograph?”

“You got it, Mr B!” she said with a laugh.

As she got back to work, Bucky looked around the class. He watched for developing issues and checked on the chatty students. There was always a couple, but Rogers’s kids seemed to have the rare skill of moderating their volume independently and nobody was too off task.

Bucky decided he could afford to sit down for a few minutes and settled on the edge of the teacher’s desk to double check the plans Rogers had left. Today was the introduction to  _ chiaroscuro _ but he hadn’t gotten around to writing the homework on the board for the last two periods. Rogers apparently liked to sneak in some art history because the the assignment was to research and write a couple paragraphs on  _ chiaroscuro _ . Bucky and his history degree approved.

* * *

 

Lunch rolled around and Bucky was  _ famished _ . After grabbing his food from the class fridge, he locked the door and dashed across the leaf-littered quad to the staff room behind the cafeteria.

After aggressively throwing his leftover pizza into the microwave to heat up, Bucky turned around to survey the room. It was damn near empty, except for  _ Natasha Romanoff _ who watching him over her drink at the next table over. She was probably drinking horrifyingly sweet tea like always, he thought distantly. She had said she as teaching Russian, but he didn’t know it was here at George Washington High.

“I see you’ve adjusted to civvie life,” Nat said, a small smile curling on her lips.

“It took me a while, but I think so, yeah,” Bucky replied, watching her a little cautiously. They had had an emotionally intense fling before they were both picked up by special ops in their early 20s and Bucky had sort of ghosted on Nat by accident. He’d managed to smooth things over with her since but he still felt awkward. “You look like you’re doing well,” Bucky added.

“Oh, I am,” she said, looking pleased with herself and strumming her left hand, subtly showing off her shiny engagement ring.

“Congratulations on the engagement!” Buck said with a smile. She and Sharon had been together for a few years, and Sharon was good for Nat from what he could tell.

“Thank you,” Nat replied, looking genuinely content. “You must be subbing; who are you here for?” she added before taking a sip.

“Rogers,” Bucky said. He was puzzled by Nat’s expression as it turned into a full blown cat-that-got-the-cream kind of smile.

Her eyebrows raised. “Well, then. That’s convenient.” Before Bucky could ask why, she added, “How are his kids treating you?”

“So far today, they’re swell. His classes are in the running for my favorites,” Bucky said with a smile, half turning around around to retrieve his pizza from the microwave as it dinged.

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear that.” When he turned around again, a still smirking Nat gestured idly at the seat across from her. “Sit. I’ve been meaning to get in touch.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her, debating whether it was worth turning her down. “Why?” This was sketchy. Nat was always a little sketchy, to be fair, but alarm bells were ringing in Bucky's head.

“Sit,” Nat said again with exaggerated patience. “You’ll thank me later. Also, how rusty is your Russian?”

“It isn’t rusty at all,” Bucky said, making a face at her. “My Baba would box my ears if I tried to speak to her in English, Nat, and I focused on Soviet history in college. I never used English articles if I could help it.”

“Good,” Nat said, nodding. “I want your number, then.” Bucky was still standing, so she raised her eyebrows again at him and looked pointedly at the seat across from hers. “I have some in-service days coming up and I don’t want to have to sacrifice the kids’ progress. I know I can trust you with them.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said. He made a face at her again for using teacher tricks on him, but sat down anyway. He pulled out his wallet for his business cards and slid one across the table to her. Nat immediately pulled out her phone to add him to her contacts.

Bucky knew she had some kind of Natasha fuckery tucked up her sleeve still but he was  _ hungry _ . Hungry enough to risk getting caught flat footed and so he started eating his pizza. She smirked at him, took a photo of him with his mouth full, and turned around to call across the room. “Hey Steve!”

Bucky turned to follow her line of sight, his eyes landing on a tall blond man standing in front of the soda machine. The guy's absolutely ridiculous hip-to-shoulder ratio drew Bucky's eyes like a magnet. When the stranger turned around, it became evident to him that there was no fucking way he was going to come out of this without dying.  _ Holy mother of God.  _ Those muscles, those cheekbones, that  _ jawline _ . The blond looked like he’d walked out of one of Michelangelo’s wet dreams, Bucky thought as the man started toward them.

Bucky put down his pizza and swallowed his bite so he could hiss at her in Russian, “ _ I’ll get you for this.” _

_ “I suggest you get me flowers,” _ she replied before handing Bucky a napkin for his greasy fingers. She smiled benignly at Steve as he reached their table and gestured at the seat between her and Bucky. Nat stared intently at Steve until he did what she wanted. “This is your sub for today,” Nat said, pointing at Bucky as Steve put down his soda and settled in. “He tells me your kids are his favorite ever.”

Rogers chuckled and ran his hand through his stupidly cute hair. Looking at Bucky, he nodded. “So far, I bet,” he said with a laugh. “No, they’re all great groups. I’m glad to hear you like them so much,” Rogers said with a smile.

His expression turned a little shy, and he added, “I saw your examples earlier when I ducked into my room during break, and they’re great. If you want to sub again for me, I’d be delighted to have you back.”

Bucky scraped together enough brain cells to nod. “I’d be thrilled, Mr Rogers,” he said, pulling out another business card and handing it over.

“Call me Steve, please,” the other man said with a laugh, their fingers brushing as he took Bucky’s card.

Fuck, Steve’s eye contact was  _ intense _ , Bucky thought, and how were his eyes so blue? Hyper aware of where they had touched, Bucky smiled. “My name is Bucky, then,” he said, finally putting his wallet away.

“Pleased to meet you, Bucky,” Steve laughed and pulled out his phone. “Excuse me a minute, I want to put your number in my contacts before I lose your card.”

Bucky nodded and smiled the best he could. "And thanks for letting me actually teach."

"You're welcome," Steve said with a laugh. "I find I can usually trust subs with art a little more than other subjects."

Nat hummed a little, peering at Bucky. "I think you can probably trust him with anything but math."

Bucky winced. "Yeah, probably shouldn't trust me with math."

Steve laughed & Bucky found himself much too charmed by it. "That's fair. I shouldn't be trusted with math, either." He smiled again & gestured at the door. "I gotta go," he said, looking at little mournful as he moved to the door. "I'll be in the office if you need me, by the way!"

"That man is going to be the death of me," Bucky said, staring at the door after Steve walked through it. "How do the students not get distracted?" 

Natasha patted his hand patronizingly. "It gets less distracting with exposure."

Bucky sighed.


	2. Flirtations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, I emailed her before I swung by,” Bucky said, tapping his metal fingers on his phone screen lightly where it rested against his bicep.
> 
>  
> 
> Steve ruthlessly crushed the warm surge of the part of himself that desperately wanted Bucky to return his feelings; Bucky chose to tell him in person instead of sending an email.
> 
>  
> 
> Bucky added, “I’ll just have to hope Mrs Bedgrossian checks her email over lunch.”
> 
>  
> 
> Steve winced. Jocelyn Bedgrossian was a Luddite and would still be using an overhead if the last one hadn’t been pried out of her hands a few years ago. “She usually eats in the lounge.”
> 
>  
> 
> Bucky laughed and stood up properly. “I suppose I’ll go let her know, then.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Hang on a minute, I’ll come with you,” Steve said, squatting back down to get his own food out of the fridge and then hurrying toward Bucky, who waited obligingly for him at the door. Bucky was smiling a little at Steve. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to die of embarrassment or cherish the smile forever, so he pretended it never happened in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I have no idea if NYC has an internship like this, but I modeled it after mine and also everyone should read Steinbeck. Also also, students are, as ever, loosely modeled after my own (especially Davis and Josh, good lord).
> 
> Lastly, sorry this took 5ever. I ended up subbing at that school for like 6 hellish weeks but now Dobby is free! and writes this shit at work.

“Hey, Dallas!” Rashad called to the girl as the kids packed up for lunch, “who’s the sub for Mr Stone?”

 

“Mr Barnes,” Dallas said, tongue poking out just a little as she attempted to squish one of her many gold beads into submission so it would stay on her dreadlock. Steve thought the scrunched up look of frustration on her face was both precious and hilarious.

 

Rashad fist pumped. “We watching a movie?”

 

“No,” Dallas replied. She clicked her tongue at the bead and gave up, tossing the dreadlock over her shoulder and hoisting her backpack up a little. “We worked on our essays for  _ Grapes of Wrath _ . Mr Barnes’ll edit yours if you print it out for him, though.”

 

Rashad made a disgusted sound. “I fucking hate that book--” his eyes widened as he realized Steve was standing about five feet away. “I’m sorry, Mr Rogers, I didn’t mean to say that.”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “School appropriate language, Mr Jordan.” Steve privately thought it was hilarious that kids were so conscious about swearing in front of him. A lot of them didn’t seem to care about it in front of many of his colleagues, much to their annoyance, but most students put in an effort not to swear in his class.

 

“Yessir, I’ll be more careful,” Rashad said, wide eyed and earnest, and then he promptly lost interest in Steve because the bell rang. Steve watching him sling his bag over one shoulder and join the rest of the students and staff in the mad rush for food.

 

He had brought his own lunch, as usual, and he wandered over to his mini fridge to grab it. There was a knock on the doorframe and Steve looked up to see a frowning Bucky standing in his doorway. “Hey Steve,” he said, pursing his lips a little. Steve tried not to be distracted by them.

 

“Hey yourself,” Steve said, dragging his eyes away up to meet Bucky’s. He looked frustrated and concerned, which made Steve worried. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I mostly just wanted to give you a heads up that Elias Garcia is having a bad day for some reason,” Bucky said, brows knitted. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “He acted up a lot today and wouldn’t talk to me about it.”

 

Steve sighed. Elias was in his sixth period and he already had his hands full with Davis and Josh. He liked those two, but they were an absolute  _ menace _ when they were together and without his full attention, they were liable to turn the room into a circus.

 

(Okay,  _ Davis _ would because he was the one with a big personality. Josh was pretty passive, like some sort of large, stoned cat who allowed Davis to do whatever he liked most of the time. Davis took full advantage of that.)

 

Elias, on the other hand, was the sort of kid who could make or break a classroom’s chemistry. Fortunately he was a student on whom Steve could usually rely on to be on task and to keep his friends from acting up too much. Sixth was going to be a nightmare if Elias was having a bad day.

 

“Thanks for letting me know,” Steve said, running his hand through his hair. “I’ll pull him aside and see if we can work it out.”

 

“It’s the least I can do,” Bucky said, the left side of his mouth quirking up briefly. “I know I’d have liked a heads up if I could have gotten one.”

 

Steve nodded. “Did you let his fifth period teacher know?”

 

“Yeah, I emailed her before I swung by,” Bucky said, tapping his metal fingers on his phone screen lightly where it rested against his bicep.

 

Steve ruthlessly crushed the warm surge of the part of himself that desperately wanted Bucky to return his feelings; Bucky chose to tell him in  _ person _ instead of sending an email.

 

Bucky added, “I’ll just have to hope Mrs Bedgrossian checks her email over lunch.”

 

Steve winced. Jocelyn Bedgrossian was a Luddite and would still be using an overhead if the last one hadn’t been pried out of her hands a few years ago. “She usually eats in the lounge.”

 

Bucky laughed and stood up properly. “I suppose I’ll go let her know, then.”

 

“Hang on a minute, I’ll come with you,” Steve said, squatting back down to get his own food out of the fridge and then hurrying toward Bucky, who waited obligingly for him at the door. Bucky was smiling a little at Steve. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to die of embarrassment or cherish the smile forever, so he pretended it never happened in the first place.

 

The pair of them had made it to the quad when Bucky’s phone pinged six times in succession on what sounded like two or three different platforms.

 

Bucky clicked his tongue and sighed when he pulled out his phone, peering at the screen despite the glare of the sun. He rolled his eyes aggressively and thrust it in his back pocket instead of answer the messages.

 

“Who was that?” Steve asked, amused. “Who’s message alert is the Trololo guy?”

 

“Natasha, that was  _ all _ Natasha,” Bucky grumbled, glaring at the building her classroom was in as they passed it.

 

“What’d she want?”

 

“To remind me to read her sub plans front to back. She wants to see highlighting and  _ annotation _ ,” Bucky said, his face pulling up in a moue of irritation. He was also maybe blushing, which Steve tried not to examine too closely. “And knowing her, they’re going to be in, like, Old Russian or something. She  _ knows  _ I can’t read that very well.”

 

Natasha was a troll but she was usually subtle about it. She seemed to enjoy it more when her victim didn’t know they were being fucked with, so Steve really had to wonder what Bucky had done to earn such baldfaced trolling from her. But Nat had also asked him to sub for her, and she never asked anyone to do that. 

 

“When are you subbing for her?” Steve asked, curious and kind of hoping it was soon. His prep period lined up with Nat’s and he could maybe ask Bucky for some help with organizing the winter student show. “Is she giving you a movie for them?”

 

“No, I’m fluent in Russian,” Bucky replied, shaking his head and tucking a stray lock behind his ear. “So we’re actually going to be working when I’m there next Wednesday.”

 

“But only Modern Russian, right?” Steve said, grinning at Bucky. “You don’t speak Old Russian.”

 

“Do you speak Old English?” Bucky shot back and elbowed Steve lightly. When he laughed, Bucky added, “Punk. Or, excuse me, old man, ye olde punke.”

 

“Jerk,” Steve chuckled, admiring the way the watery winter sunlight fell on Bucky’s cheekbones. “Where’d you learn Russian?” he asked with a cough when the pause went on just a little too long.

 

“My household was -- is -- bilingual because my mom’s family is Russian,” Bucky said, letting Steve redirect the conversation without comment as they drew closer to the staff lounge. “My grandmother lived with us and she won’t speak English to family.”

 

“Does she just refuse to answer you if you ask in English, or what?” Steve asked, wondering what it would like to meet Bucky’s grandma someday.

 

“No, not exactly,” Bucky replied, reaching for his keys to open the door. “If you ask her a question in English, she’ll say ‘what?’ in Russian until you say it in the right language.” He laughed as he held the door open for Steve and added, “When I was an obnoxious teenager, I used to use English just to annoy her and she’d just get louder every single time, like a stereotypical old person. I thought that was  _ hilarious _ at thirteen.”

 

“Ahhh, adolescence,” Steve said lightly as he scanned the tables for Bedgrossian. She wasn’t here and he sighed internally. “The years we survive largely through the forbearance of others.”

 

Bucky laughed again and dropped his lunch bag on an empty table. “I’m sure she thought about throwing me out the window an awful lot. Probably still thinks about,” he winced, “when I haven’t spoken Russian in a while and my accent starts sounding too American.”

 

Steve chuckled. “How do you know Nat, if I can ask? Are you two cousins or something?”

 

Bucky looked distressed and shook his head. “God, no. We are not even remotely related. Her family is from Saint Petersburg and mine is from, like, the ass-end of nowhere. We met when we were both stationed in Bulgaria.”

 

“Oooh,” Steve said with a nod. “She never told me she served.”

 

Bucky sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, and turned his head a little, grimacing. “Oops. Don’t tell her I told you, then. Nat probably can’t talk about two thirds of it with anyone anyway.” He looked over at Steve and asked, “Did you serve?”

 

Steve nodded. “Army. Did one two year tour in both Afghanistan and Iraq.”

 

“Me, too, in addition to my Bulgarian adventure,” Bucky said. “Though that was when I joined NATO, which was after Afghanistan and Iraq.”

 

Steve could feel the question of when Bucky had lost his arm burgeoning behind his lips, pressing on his teeth to get out, but he swallowed it down. Sarah Rogers had raised a polite young man and she’d box him around the ears if she heard him ask that. Bucky would tell him in due time, or he wouldn’t, and Steve would accept it either way.

 

“But, uh,” Bucky continued, “Nat and I had a weirdly intense fling while we were there and then I accidentally ghosted on her when we got picked up by different groups. She went into intelligence, I joined special operations.” Bucky sighed. “We meant to stay in touch but I was so overwhelmed when I joined that I didn’t hold up my end of things.”

 

Steve’s heart sank. Bucky was probably straight. “That’s rough.”

 

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. By the time I was capable of functioning, it had been months. I felt really bad, but she was not likely to be receptive at that point.”

 

Steve winced. “Probably not.”

 

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, she tore me a new one when I reached out to apologize to her. But we smoothed it out eventually.”

 

Steve nodded. “Why’d you join up?”

 

“Fell in love with a straight fella and needed to run away from my feelings,” Bucky said, tilting his head a little. His expression was a little sharp, a little wary, Steve thought.

 

Even so, Steve’s spirits buoyed and he could barely contain his smile. “So you’re, uhm, bisexual?”

 

Bucky’s eyes were guarded. “Yes.”

 

“Me, too,” Steve said, smiling a little more.

 

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed and he tipped his head back with a laugh. Steve’s heart fluttered. “Birds of a queer feather flock together, right?”

 

“Yeah, we do,” Steve chuckled.

 

“So, why’d you join the army, if I can ask?”

 

“For school money. Minor league baseball pays almost nothing and I wanted to get my teaching credential,” Steve replied with a shrug. 

 

Bucky’s eyebrows popped up and Steve thought it was the cutest damn thing. “Minor league? Who’d you play for?”

 

“The Cyclones, of course,” Steve said as the bell rang.

 

As they reached the staff lounge door, Bucky pulled open the door for Steve with a flirtatious glimmer in his eyes. “After you.”

  
Steve swallowed hard.

**Author's Note:**

> I am actually a substitute & am currently on a long term assignment that is a total clusterfuck, so updates will be slow. Thought I'd upload this thing before my life is eaten up by inventing a grading system from scratch three weeks before the end of the semester. :) :) :)
> 
>  
> 
> Might be longer than three chapters, will probably get more tags, rating might change. Idk. It's been years since I wrote fic. Let's see if I remember how to.


End file.
